Mara, Maya, and Other Delusions Starting with M
by ArkTaisch
Summary: After watching 6.01, Rumple and Belle decide to get the hell out of Dodge. They aim for the Dark Castle, but end up in the land of Chinese fairy tales instead. (Post-season 5 canon divergence AU)
1. Return to Storybrooke

**Author's notes:** Dear showrunners, if I wanted to watch "Skin Deep" again, I would just watch "Skin Deep" again. Also, I miss Maleficent. Why couldn't this season be about Maleficent and her daughter instead of Emma and Hook?

I told myself that I wasn't going to let season 6 get to me, but apparently I lied. Especially after Morpheus really did have a f***ing hourglass! Ha ha. I swear I wrote that bit in my previous story without having seen any spoiler pictures or anything, so it was a complete coincidence.

* * *

 _"It's similar in effect to Zelena's time travel spell, but creates alternatives, remakes, sequels, and sidesteps. Slightly safer to use, but in the hands of the irresponsible... well, if we're lucky, the god of dreams isn't a fool." — Rumplestiltskin, talking about the Hourglass of Chronos_

* * *

The last thing Belle expected to see upon her return to Storybrooke was herself. It was dark, and she only caught a glimpse of the familiar figure before it turned away, but she was ninety percent sure of what she'd seen. That was herself, coming out of the pawn shop. Belle started forward, but Rumplestiltskin seized her elbow.

"Wait!" he whispered into her ear. The urgency in his voice quelled her impulse to call out to this... imposter? The two of them watched silently as the other walked down the street, until her shape was lost in the night. Then with a wave of his hand, Rumplestiltskin enveloped them in the maroon smoke of his transportation spell and took them elsewhere.

Belle immediately recognized the cluttered back room of the shop. Rumple let go of her arm and turned on the light. They stared at each other in a moment of confusion. Belle cleared her throat, then found her voice. "What's going on? Who was that?"

"Someone with your appearance, certainly." It went without saying that appearances could be deceptive, especially when magic was a possibility. He cast a protection spell around the room, then told Belle, "I need to take a closer look."

He rummaged in one of the cabinets and found a circular vanity mirror, the type that was set in a metal frame and stand. He placed it on a tabletop. Belle caught a glimpse of a painted eye surrounded by elvish glyphs before he rotated the mirror around until the reflective surface was facing them. He waved a hand across the mirror. The image changed to show... Belle.

Watching over Rumple's shoulder, Belle caught her breath at the confirmation of what she had seen before: there was no mistaking her own face.

"It's not a glamour or a shapeshift," murmured Rumplestiltskin. He waggled a finger, and the image zoomed out to show that the other Belle was not alone. She was speaking to someone... it was her father! A moment later, the scene faded, and she was looking at her real self again, staring anxiously from behind Rumple. His eyes met hers in the mirror. "It _is_ you. Or at least, _Belle_ , in some sense."

"How is that possible?" Belle mentally shuffled through everything she had read about magic, remembering obscure stories about dopplegangers and fetches. Then a more recent example occurred to her. "Night root? That creates a physical double." She thought back over their last few meals and whether someone could have slipped in a dose of the magical extract.

"No," replied Rumplestiltskin. He put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. "I wouldn't allow that to happen. I have defensive wards set up."

Belle nodded. Although she had argued with him over dark magic, it had never been these kind of spells that she was worried about, and she had been a target of Rumplestiltskin's enemies enough times to appreciate the protection.

"Besides, the manifestation created by night root always attacks its progenitor," said Rumplestiltskin. "While this version of you showed no awareness of your existence."

"Time travel, then? Maybe it's a future me."

"That would show up in its aura." He tapped the rim of the mirror.

Time to hit the books, then. Belle knew the drill. By now almost as familiar with the contents of his library as he was, she started pulling out the magical reference books. She had just begun scanning the index of the first when Rumple interrupted her.

"We're missing the obvious." He glared at her from across a cabinet.

"What?" She blinked and refocused on his face. She hoped he wasn't about to fly off into one of his rages.

"Morpheus." He bit the name off with contempt and annoyance, but calmly enough. "Morpheus has the Hourglass of Chronos."

"You think he's in Storybrooke?" asked Belle in alarm.

"Let's find out, shall we?" Rumplestiltskin returned to his enchanted vanity mirror, dropping a handful of other items next to it. He picked up one of his golden threads and ran it from the mirror frame to a small black box. "This time I'll set it up for audio, too."

Oh, right, that's a speaker, thought Belle, drawing on Lacey's knowledge of the Land Without Magic. She hadn't known that technology could be mixed with magic that way. So why couldn't he use one of those big flat screens instead of a tiny mirror? Something to ask when they weren't as busy.

Meanwhile, Rumplestiltskin had one of his chests of potions out. He selected a vial and poured the contents onto the mirror. The liquid transmuted itself into a sheen of blue light which seemed to be absorbed into the reflection. "I should be able to track him from our last point of contact, back at the shrine."

It didn't take long for the image of Morpheus to appear, much as she remembered: a pale, gaunt man in ragged night-black robes standing outside the rustic shrine where they had met him. As they watched, the light flickered, swirling into a cloud of mist, then dissipated again. The rough stone and timber shrine had grown into a massive domed edifice on a mountain peak, arched windows admitting sunlight into a multi-tiered interior with torches and oversized statues.

"That's a little more imposing than the hovel," said Belle, moving next to her husband to peer into the mirror.

"This is his temple as it appears in the realm of dreams," said Rumplestiltskin, shifting to one side to allow Belle a better view. "He seems to have delusions of grandeur. A common affliction among the divine pantheon."

"And Dark Ones, too. I haven't forgotten your castle."

Rumplestiltskin scoffed. "I built that when I thought Bae might want a castle."

"And to keep all your precious _things_ in," muttered Belle, but she leaned against him and hugged him fondly to take the sting out of her words.

"It turned out to be convenient," he agreed, putting an arm around her waist. They watched together as Morpheus walked up to the altar in the center of the temple. Another cloud of mist swirled around him, and when it cleared again, he wore the appearance of a young man with short brown hair, his robe no longer shaded an unearthly black. "Huh."

The young man held up his right hand. An hourglass appeared in his palm.

"It looks different," said Belle.

"In the dream realm, perceptions are more fluid than they would be elsewhere."

Morpheus tipped the hourglass over and waved a hand around it. Sparkling red sand sprayed out, then drifted down and solidified into a human shape.

Belle gasped. "It's you!"

"Indeed." Rumplestiltskin frowned at his double in the mirror, who was frozen in place, as if under a paralysis spell. Morpheus circled his creation once, twice, three times. Then, presumably satisfied with his work, the god of dreams vanished from view. The copied Rumplestiltskin unfroze and took out a small box. He lifted it, and a few passes of his hand sent Belle — a Belle who was still deep in sleep — onto the bed-like altar. Then he picked up the urn from the stand next to the altar and sprinkled what looked like more sand over both himself and the sleeper. The sand ballooned into another cloud of mist which filled the whole mirror.

"What is that?" whispered Belle. "Why did he do that?"

"I don't know. At a guess, Morpheus has tampered with his memories. If he really is a copy of me, he'll be trying to wake you, or what he thinks is you."

The mist cleared to show Rumplestiltskin standing alone in a wood. He was soon joined by Morpheus, still in his guise as a young man. Belle was surprised to hear him introduce himself as Morpheus. "What's the point of the disguise, then?"

"I don't know." They listened to the conversation as it was transmitted through the speaker. The scenery shifted again. "Ah, the Dark Castle."

As they followed Rumplestiltskin's double into the interior, Belle noted, "Darker than I remember."

"Hmm. Look, there you are." They watched the copy of Belle turn towards the opened door, her voice anxious as she greeted Rumplestiltskin, who wavered in the mirror between his current human shape and his former appearance as the demonic imp. "A dream within a dream."

Dream-Belle vanished deeper into the castle. Morpheus and dream-Rumplestiltskin spoke, and Belle could hear the edge of desperation in the familiar voice. Her arm tightened around the Rumple standing next to her. "I did have some nightmares at first..."

"I know. I'm sorry," said Rumplestiltskin. "Captivity isn't easy, even when you've volunteered for it."

"Do you... do you ever have bad dreams?" Belle asked hesitantly, remembering the horror of finding him in Zelena's cage, unable to leave even when the door was open. She remembered his despair at his utter helplessness under the dagger's control.

"Sometimes," Rumplestiltskin whispered, a shudder running through his body. Then he steadied himself and drew her closer. "But listen, we're free now."

"Not like her, poor thing," said Belle, gazing into the mirror at the version of herself trapped in the dream. "And look at you. You were never that nice when I really was in your castle. Rudest man I ever met."

"You led a sheltered life before you met me," Rumplestiltskin pointed out. "And _you_ cried incessantly the whole first week."

"You locked me in the dungeon!"

"Well, I couldn't have you wandering around the castle all night, breaking things."

"I wouldn't have," said Belle, offended at the suggestion.

"How was I supposed to know that? You weren't exactly a trained housekeeper when I hired you." Rumplestiltskin sighed. "I remember thinking at the time that you got the better end of our deal."

"You made me a servant!"

"And I saved your family and your town from an army of ogres. Plenty of people have entered a lifetime of servitude for far less," said Rumplestiltskin. "How much did your father pay the maids at _his_ castle?"

"At least he never threatened to turn them into toads," muttered Belle. Dancing. Dream-Belle and dream-Rumple were dancing. _She_ had never had that chance when living in the Dark Castle.

"Hush. I think she's beginning to remember," said Rumplestiltskin. "Aha."

Belle frowned as the scene in the mirror unfolded, her heart sinking as dream-Belle pushed dream-Rumple away. "Not again!" She wanted to reach through the mirror and shake some sense into her counterpart, but she knew it was too late. These events had already happened.

Then Morpheus "revealed" his identity to the two in the dream and Belle gasped. "No... our son? They believe him?"

"It's clearly impossible. Our child is still a barely-formed embryo, with no thoughts or feelings, much less recognition of a father it's never met," said Rumple, sounding irritated at their dream counterparts' gullibility. "Besides, two sleepers can't wake each other up with True Love's Kiss. Snow White tried that once with Prince Charming. What the hell is Morpheus playing at?"

Real or not, Belle couldn't help feeling sorry for the pair in the mirror. Dream-Belle vanished through the portal, leaving dream-Rumple standing alone in the temple with nothing but a forlorn expression on his face.

The image faded and the mirror was a simple mirror once more. Rumple broke free of Belle and paced the confined space of the back room. "He's manipulating events. Why does he want them separated? Is he trying to incarnate himself into a mortal form so that he can have substance in the waking realms?"

"We need to warn the others," said Belle. She started for the exit, but even as her fingers closed on the curtain separating them from the front of the shop, Rumple drew her back.

"Stop. We can't go out there," he said. "It's all I can do to keep our reality intact in a shielded room."

"Wait, what? What are you talking about?" Belle stared at her husband. Was he hiding things from her again?

Rumplestiltskin gripped her hand as if afraid to lose her... to what, she wasn't sure. He met her eyes with apparent sincerity. "It's the hourglass. It's powerful, Belle. I was going to use all the magic in Storybrooke, added to my own, to wake you — and that might not have been enough. So you can imagine what that hourglass is capable of..."

"Creating copies of us, yes," said Belle. "But they're not real, are they?"

"Oh, they're very real. And they're not exactly copies. If we go out there, soon _we'll_ become the fakes. We'll become nothing but forgotten dreams. As far as reality is concerned, we've been replaced."

Belle stared at him, aghast. He wasn't lying. "We have to fix this. There must be some counter-spell..."

Rumplestiltskin shook his head slowly, and now she could see the strain on his face. "I don't know of any. To create one myself would take time."

Time they might not have. Belle nodded in understanding. "But what if we had help? You're not the only sorcerer in Storybrooke. What about Regina, or Emma? And the fairies... if Morpheus is planning some evil, even Blue would help us, wouldn't she?"

"All right. I'll try to contact them." Rumple released her hand reluctantly and returned to his enchanted mirror. "Let's see what they've been up to while we were away."

Belle followed him, curious despite her new fears. Images appeared in the mirror again, and snatches of conversation. Some of them Rumple dismissed quickly — no need to watch Emma and Hook rolling around on a couch — and others he lingered over. "What did I say? They dealt with Mr. Hyde quickly enough! But it seems he brought over a whole airship filled with his friends. Hmm. What's afflicting Miss Swan? She seems... distracted."

They watched her visit Hyde in the prison cell, then her encounter with an oracle.

"Keeping secrets again? Haven't we played this game before?" muttered Rumple. "And it's a tricky business, foretelling the future."

"Do you think the oracle was telling the truth?" wondered Belle.

"I don't know," said Rumple. The images shifted again. "Zelena." They watched as relations between Zelena and her half-sister deteriorated.

"What did Zelena mean about Regina removing the part of herself that was most like her?"

Rumple thought about it for a few moments before he answered, "There was a potion Hyde was working on, that would separate him from his alter ego, Dr. Jekyll. Perhaps he finally succeeded. If Regina used it..."

A few scenes later, in Zelena's farmhouse, they had their answer. There was the Evil Queen in all her regalia, sharing a drink with her sister.

"Regina, Regina, Regina," said Rumple, shaking his head. "You still haven't learned, have you?"

"Do you think it's part of Morpheus's plan?" Belle didn't know which answer would be worse. Either things were already in a mess and the addition of the god of dreams could be the tipping point to total catastrophe, or it was all part of a plot so insane that her head hurt just trying to unravel it.

Rumple gestured over the mirror, bringing back Regina's visage. "I don't know yet. Come on, Regina, answer your calls." There was no response from the mirror. After a full minute had gone by, he let the image fade. "Nothing. She's the best at this kind of magic. If even she can't hear me..."

His attempts to contact the other denizens of Storybrooke met with no more success. He even tried Zelena and the Evil Queen, despite his obvious distaste. Finally, he sent his mirror crashing into a wall with a furious sweep of his arm. "Damn it!"

He leaned with his hands flat on the table, head bowed, trembling slightly and breathing hard.

"Rumple..." Belle touched his arm, led him to sit down on the bed. "It's all right. We'll think of something else."

"It's not all right," he whispered. "Our reality is degrading every moment we stay here. Even if we met them face to face now, I'm not sure they would be able to see us. We have to go."

"Go where?"

"Not even the hourglass should be able to affect us across realms. We'll go back to the Enchanted Forest." He hesitated, then added, "I still have some things... in the vault at my castle."

"No. You can't!" Belle protested automatically. He had told her before that he stored only the most dangerous of dark magic in his vault.

"We may not have a choice." He stood up shakily and took the Apprentice's wand from his jacket. With a sure, practiced motion, he drew a door in the air. "And we're certainly out of time." He looked back, holding out a hand for Belle.

She took his hand and stepped with him through the portal. Her next step came down on...

...nothing. A furious wind blasted around and between them. Belle lost her grip on her husband's hand. She had to shut her eyes against the storm. For the space of a dozen heartbeats, she felt herself spun in the maelstrom between worlds. Then she was spit out into a sudden calm. She opened her eyes to find herself in the air. Falling!

It was daytime, with the sun shining down out of a cloudless blue sky. As they fell, Belle caught a glimpse of an unfamiliar landscape around them. The Dark Castle was nowhere in sight. It didn't even look like the Enchanted Forest. Then she looked down to see a strange man staring up at them with a surprised expression. At which point she collided with the stranger, sending both of them crashing into the ground. She heard Rumplestiltskin's voice calling out, "Belle!"

As she lay there, breathless and stunned, she could only hope that they had not leaped from the frying pan into the fire.

* * *

 **Notes:** Next chapter, should I actually write it, starts a crossover with a show that had the sense to quit after three seasons and a godawful reboot attempt. Perhaps thinking about this story will help inspire me for NaNoWriMo. As for Morpheus and whatever he's up to...I'll wait and see what happens in canon first.


	2. Strangers in a strange land

**Author's notes:** After watching 6.02, I'm in need of stronger brain-bleach. In lieu of that, I'm just gonna ramble off into my own madness and throw some adventures at Belle and Rumple. Less of the relationship wangst. This is how I envision the spinoff "Once Upon a Time in China" — wait, that was a Jet Li movie. Never mind!

* * *

From the moment he stepped through the portal, Rumplestiltskin knew that something was wrong. It manifested first as a half-heard note vibrating in the back of his mind. Then the sound was lost in the storm that overtook them and separated him from Belle. For what felt like an eternity, he battered uselessly against the wind, his magic finding no purchase and no direction amidst the chaos.

Then another power hit him, hostile and angry. He blinked automatically out of existence, but the other followed him as his feet landed on solid earth again. He had an impression of a hillside meadow before he had to focus on his enemy, who had just launched something flying in a wide arc around Rumplestiltskin. A hat. A wide-brimmed straw hat with a gauzy veil hanging from the edges.

He could see why the snarling creature before him had chosen to hide its visage: it was a monstrous humanoid with the head of an ugly, hairless dog. Its red-tinted skin was pocked and pebbly over misshapen, lumpy flesh. Its eyes were a malevolent silver with slitted black pupils. Glittering layers of loose cloth (red and black giving the impression of flames and charcoal) couldn't hide its inhuman proportions as it lunged forward and swiped ivory claws at Rumplestiltskin's face.

He leaped back, summoning power to knock his attacker back, but magic tasted different here. It was taking too long to adjust. He couldn't afford to split his attention because the hat was already spinning back towards him. He ducked just in time, his hair whipped up by the force of its passage. It was clearly a magical weapon of some sort, imbued with dark energy.

The demon took advantage of the distraction to seize the other end of the wand in Rumplestiltskin's hand. The latter tightened his fingers; if he lost the wand, they might never find their way back to Storybrooke. Even as he formed the thought, the demon sent a massive surge of dark magic into the wand.

The wand exploded.

Shocked, Rumplestiltskin staggered back. He had never, ever expected someone to so casually obliterate something as precious as the Apprentice's Wand. Before he could muster a counterattack, the demon whirled and vanished in a streak of crimson light, hat and all.

"Lifeless Loner Xu Tiande!" The shout came from some distance behind him. "You think we're playing baseball? Switching in a pinch hitter when the going gets tough — shameless and despicable!"

Rumplestiltskin whipped around to see a man dashing across the meadow towards him, shedding strips of shredded paper around him like confetti. Two steps later, a familiar figure fell out of the sky and knocked the man to the ground.

"Belle!" Confused and alarmed in equal measure, Rumplestiltskin drew even more deeply upon the reservoir of darkness he held. It came with a flurry of spiteful voices urging him to kill this new threat before it could... He ignored the voices and settled for a wave of force that knocked the stranger well clear. Belle wasn't moving. She wasn't moving. He broke into a run towards her slumped form. "Belle!"

Before he could reach her, the stranger had tumbled back to his feet, hands raised with the palms out, shouting something as he sent a magical blast back at Rumplestiltskin. Rumplestiltskin shielded himself hastily, the force sparking off his wards in a haze of golden light. Light magic.

The stranger closed in, circling and studying Rumplestiltskin with wary, half-mad eyes. He was a short, scrawny man with a mobile, expressive face. He wore a ragged blue shirt covered with patches and a pair of plain trousers just as dirty and dilapidated as the shirt. A cloth hat displaying the kanji for "Buddha" capped a head of black hair that straggled down to his shoulders. A string of large wooden prayer beads hung around his neck. He gestured with a broken-down cat-tail fan at Rumplestiltskin. "So who are you? Are you human or demon?"

"Try me and find out," Rumplestiltskin growled, not in the mood for a fight, but bracing himself nevertheless. He was beginning to grasp the flow of magic here. He threw a paralysis at the stranger. He just needed a moment to see to Belle, and then—

The stranger easily shook off the spell. "Amitabha! So you know a few tricks." He grinned, looking Rumple up and down. "Judging by your appearance, the Calligrapher is recruiting far afield. Looks like the local demons aren't being taken in by his lies anymore."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Rumplestiltskin maneuvered himself to stand between the stranger and Belle. He risked a quick glance down at her. She was stirring at last. When the stranger showed no signs of attacking, Rumplestiltskin bent down to help Belle to her feet. "You all right, sweetheart?"

"Just had the breath knocked out of me," she said, leaning against his side. She smiled at the stranger. "Sorry for falling on you like that. It was an accident. Um, I'm Belle."

"I'm called Dao-Ji," said the stranger, pronouncing the name with equal emphasis on both syllables. He eyed Rumplestiltskin and Belle dubiously, dancing around them erratically. He had the air of a clown. Or a lunatic. "You two... are together?"

Rumplestiltskin drew closer to Belle at Dao-Ji's challenging tone. "Well, she's not with _you_ , is she."

Dao-Ji averted his eyes behind his tattered fan with an exaggerated show of embarassment at the public display of affection. "What are you doing with her? She's light, you're dark. She's human, you're immortal. You have no future together."

"I decide my own future, thank you very much," said Belle.

At that, Dao-Ji threw up his hands dramatically and spluttered, "The world is littered with besotted fools. Nothing ever gives me a bigger headache. Why won't you ever listen to sense?"

"Not from some mad wizard," muttered Belle. She glanced at Rumplestiltskin. "You know, he reminds me a bit of you, Rumple, the way you were in the Enchanted Forest."

Rumple shot her a wounded look. "Me?"

"Amitabha! I'm a monk, not a wizard," said Dao-Ji, pressing his palms together and bowing with mock humility.

"But I see you don't dispute the 'mad'," noted Rumplestiltskin. "Also, I recall being more attentive to my personal hygiene, even in my leather-wearing days. Whereas standing downwind of you is something of an ordeal."

"I bathed twice this year already!" Dao-Ji made a show of sniffing his own armpits, then shrugged. He stuck his fan over his shoulder, securing it under a strap. He then held up his left hand and frowned at it while he made some mental calculation on his fingers. Rumple sensed a surge of magic, but he wasn't familiar with the spell. The monk's gaze focused again, darting between Belle and Rumplestiltskin. He winced at whatever he saw. "Amitabha..."

"What's wrong?" Despite her brave words, Belle seemed unnerved by the monk's deranged manner, and clung to Rumple.

Rumplestiltskin gave her a reassuring squeeze. "Spare us the theatrics." He was well familiar with the technique, having used it to annoy countless clients back in his Enchanted Forest days. It had the dual advantage of keeping his enemies off balance while providing cover for those momentary lapses of control when the darkness overwhelmed his sanity. He wouldn't be surprised if the monk suffered from a similar condition: magic always came with a price, whether it was light or dark.

Dao-Ji stared at Belle, suddenly serious. "Your husband is under a curse, and not the one you think. He was born under a villain's star; no deed of his will go unpunished."

Rumplestiltskin scoffed in exasperation. "Belle, don't listen to him. Astrology is notoriously unreliable."

"Listen or don't listen, it's up to you." The monk cupped a hand around his ear and canted his head to one side. "But do you hear that?"

"What?" Belle glanced around in bewilderment, but Rumple didn't bother to look. His senses detected no one else present.

"I can hear... I can hear..." Dao-Ji dragged out the syllables deliberately. Rumple suppressed an urge to smack him. Finally, the monk concluded, "I can hear your mother calling you home for supper!" Then he twirled on his toes and vanished.

Rumplestiltskin frowned at the space where he had been, then turned to Belle. "Hmm."

"What was that all about?"

"A warning. Or possibly a deal," decided Rumplestiltskin. "It's called giving us enough rope to hang ourselves. He's leaving us alone for now."

Belle surveyed their surroundings. They stood in a gently sloping meadow at the bottom of a landslide-scarred mountainside. Rugged wilderness surrounded them. Far in the distant lowlands, however, they could see the straight lines and right angles of roads, fields, and villages. "Where are we? Is this the eastern empire that Mulan comes from?"

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "No. Though they seem to share a language, this is a different realm. Farther from the Enchanted Forest than I've ever been. It's more... _colorful_."

"Can you get us back?"

"No. The wand was destroyed."

"Destroyed!"

"I'll find another way." Rumplestiltskin retraced the monk's path backwards, peering at the ground. He picked a scrap of paper out of the grass and studied it with all his senses. He detected a lingering aura of magic, but couldn't identify the spell.

"What is that?" Belle joined him, then leaned down to search the ground herself. "Look, there's more bits of paper. I can't make out the writing. Is it a spell?"

"Dark magic," said Rumplestiltskin. He placed the paper in a tiny glass jar and pocketed it. He kept a supply of magically protected containers in his personal extradimensional storage closet for just such occasions. "We'll have to tread carefully here. _Something_ was powerful enough to intercept my portal and drag us to this realm."

"It doesn't seem that bad," said Belle, looking down into the valley. Her natural curiosity had emerged again.

Rumple hid a smile. She had always wanted to see the world, hadn't she? Well, this world was new to both of them. "Since we're here..."

"We may as well take a look around," finished Belle. She took Rumple by the arm. "Can't we, Rumple?"

He nodded. "Of course." He glanced up at the sky. "A good day for a walk, wouldn't you say?" By the foliage on the trees and the angle of the sun, he guessed it to be early summer. Up here on the mountain, the air still held a chilly bite, but the lowlands would be warm. "We can go to one of those villages, find someplace to stay until we get our bearings. Inns are found in most realms!"

An hour later, the novelty of enjoying a pleasant hike with his wife had worn off into the tedium of trudging through a seemingly endless expanse of forest. At least he had two good legs at the moment — the uneven ground was difficult enough to cope with as it was. Walking was so _slow_ , but teleportation was too risky when he didn't know where he was.

"So, um, you were going to teach me light magic," said Belle.

"Yes," said Rumple, latching onto the reminder eagerly. Probably she was as bored as he was with the walking. "You've read about it, of course."

"I have, but books mostly assume that you already have magic, or else they're technical treatises on the theory of light magic," said Belle. "No one seems to have published a 'Light Magic for Dummies' for some reason."

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. "Ah, yes. Despite your admirable devotion to the written word, much of magic continues to be transmitted the traditional way from teacher to student. Oaths of secrecy aren't uncommon."

"Really? Regina never seemed to worry about anything like that."

"That's because I never bothered with the formalities. Dark magic is selfish: the practitioners tend not to appreciate rivals."

"But light magic is different?"

Rumple shrugged. "Light magic has its own reasons for secrecy. Strictures about being worthy and the corrupting nature of any power and so on."

"I see." They continued on for awhile before Belle spoke again. "So, even though I wasn't born magical, I can still learn it? Without having to kill anyone, I mean."

"Oh yes," said Rumple. "It's possible to cultivate it within yourself, gathering magic from natural sources."

"What natural sources?"

"For light magic, that would be the sun in its aspect as lifegiver. It is, however, a long and arduous process." He glanced over at Belle and touched her cheek. "And considering your complexion, it would involve a painful amount of sunburn."

"Sunburn!"

"Magic always comes with a price, dear." He smirked, then dropped his hand. "But there are shortcuts. I could give you a head start."

"What kind of head start?" Belle gave him a suspicious look. "If this is some trick of dark magic—"

"No, no. It's not." Rumple sighed to himself. She still had trust issues. When would he be clear of the debt incurred by his lies? Not today, but he hoped to make some progress. "You could think of it as me returning what you gave to me in the first place."

"What do you mean?"

He touched his chest. "What there is left of light inside my heart, well, you put it there." After Bae had died, Rumplestiltskin had nothing left to love in this life except for Belle. Even his grandson had been tangled up with the seer's prophecy that he would be Rumplestiltskin's undoing, thus muddling the Dark One's emotions into an unhappy brew of fear and love. "That is what enables me to work a modicum of light magic along with the dark."

He explained the method that he could use to split off that magic and share it with her. "Think of the way that Snow White and Prince Charming share a single heart."

Eventually, Belle was reassured enough to assent to his offer.

"Here, let's rest for a bit, first." He took off his jacket and brushed off a boulder for Belle to sit on, leaving the folded jacket as a cushion for her. The damned suit was ruined, anyway, after a few miles of scrambling through bushes and over rocks.

Belle nodded. She, too, was looking a little frayed and sticky from the hike. "Thanks."

After a few minutes, Rumple moved to stand in front of Belle, lightly touching her chest. "Put your hand over my heart, like so." He guided her arm.

Belle gave him a strange look. "Didn't we do this before? That 'pirate's oath' you made me swear?"

Rumple averted his eyes, wincing at the memory. He had glamoured himself to look like Killian Jones at the time, in order to get close to Belle and trick her into returning his dagger. A simple divination had suggested the form he should take, but he had still been shocked and hurt at her gullibility and willingness to hand control of him over to his enemy. "Yes, well, I'm sorry about that."

"So am I," Belle confessed. "I was afraid, I suppose. I knew you were clever enough to get back into Storybrooke, and I was afraid of what you might do."

"Are you still afraid? We don't have to do this. It's your choice."

"It won't harm the baby?"

"No. If anything, it will help protect you both," said Rumple.

Belle nodded. "Let's do it."

It didn't take long, once he had cleared his mind and focused on the strand of love that stubbornly bound them together. After he was done, he took a step back and examined her. "How do you feel?"

"Not that different. A little hungry."

"I'll see what we can do about that. Come on. We still have a trek ahead of us." As they walked on, Rumple taught Belle basic magical exercises and energy cultivation techniques to build on what he had transmitted to her. When they came to a mountain stream, he showed her the spell for purifying water. "Turning it into tea is more challenging. We can do that next week."

Further on, he found a cluster of edible fungus growing on the side of a dead tree. He broke off a clump and presented it to Belle. "Ah, what we used to call 'wooden chickens' in the old days."

She wrinkled her nose dubiously at the brown lobes. "You used to eat fungus?"

"Foraging was something of a necessity when money was tight. If we had access to a kitchen, I'd show you the traditional way to prepare it, but as it is..." He waved a hand over the fungus, then handed a piece to Belle.

She took a tentative nibble, then raised her eyebrows. "It's good!"

The two of them shared the rest, Rumple going back to collect more when Belle was still hungry. After that, they continued walking. Many hours later, they emerged from the woods into the edge of the inhabited lands. Terraced fields followed the contours of the hills, interspersed with small huts and animal pens.

After seeing a few of the locals working the fields, Rumplestiltskin conjured a change of clothing for himself and Belle. "Let's not draw too much attention to ourselves."

Belle nodded, looking too exhausted and footsore to say much.

Thankfully, it wasn't much farther before they reached a bustling town, big enough to support two inns. Rumplestiltskin picked the one that looked cleaner, and paid for a room with a handful of silver chunks that had once been his cufflinks. He left Belle to rest while he made arrangements for food to be brought to them.

"It's not what I expected." Belle tried not to drop anything as she used the chopsticks to transfer bits of food from the serving plates into her bowl. "This isn't anything like what they have at the Chinese restaurant in Storybrooke. There's hardly any meat."

"Meat is probably more expensive here than in Maine," said Rumple. "And they were cooking with American ingredients, to American tastes, in Storybrooke. Naturally it would be different."

Belle was yawning halfway through supper and barely made it to bed before falling fast asleep. Not how he had intended to start their world tour, thought Rumple ruefully. He lay down carefully next to her and closed his eyes. As a Dark One, he technically didn't require sleep, but he wasn't used to so much walking, either, and he was nearly as tired as she was.

He woke up the next morning before Belle, as usual. A touch of magic eased his aching muscles as he got up and dressed himself. Belle remained soundly asleep. Rumple was sorry to wake her, but he didn't want to leave without telling her.

"Belle, sweetheart. I'm going out for a bit, to look around and collect some supplies." He stared into her eyes to make sure she understood, then kissed her gently on the forehead. "Go back to sleep. You're safe here. I shouldn't be long."

Moments later, he transported himself back into the forest. He didn't have his potion brewing apparatus here, but he could still collect the ingredients. Some things he could make with just a pot of water and a heat source. He had mentally noted the relevant locations the day before as they passed by, not saying anything at the time. He hadn't wanted to have Belle fretting about what spells he might be preparing.

 _Keeping secrets again?_ he chided himself. No. He had promised to be honest with her. He would explain everything when he returned. Strangers in a strange land, they needed all the advantages they could get. A few potions, poisons, and antidotes could go a long way.

 _Why bother? She'll only leave you again, no matter what you tell her,_ came the sneering voice inside his head. _Kill her now, before anyone else tries to use her or turn her against you. That's the only way you'll be safe._

He ignored the voice and concentrated on harvesting the fairy-touched lichen growing on the rock in front of him. The darkness persisted, gibbering in the back of his head, offering instructions on how to turn the lichen into various lethal and nonlethal concoctions, all of which he already knew. He ignored the voice so successfully that it took him some time before he noticed when it changed its tone.

 _Listen! Listen, you fool. Someone is crying. Someone WANTS something._

Rumplestiltskin froze. Out here? This far up the mountain, this deep into the forest? Beyond a few hunters, he hadn't seen any traces of human presence. Even the bandits stayed closer to the roads where they found their victims. Yet he felt an unmistakable sense of someone in need. Where there was need, there was a potential deal to be struck — that was the Dark One's gift, the ability to sniff out the desires hidden in every heart.

Curious, he headed towards that vague sense of need. As he drew closer, he had the impression of someone young, someone afraid. Someone lost? The cries he heard in his head gradually merged into the sound of a child wailing in distress. It wasn't loud, but it was enough for Rumplestiltskin to pinpoint the distance and direction. A wave of his hand later, he was there.

A boy. A boy trapped under a massive limb fallen from a dead tree. It was a miracle he hadn't been instantly crushed. As it was, he was pinned to the ground, only part of his face and one arm visible through the branches. He looked no more than seven or eight years old. Then as Rumple approached and got a closer look, he amended his guess to a chronically undernourished ten. A bundle of sticks lay half-scattered by the fallen wood: the boy must have been sent out to gather brush. But this was too deep into the forest. He shouldn't be _here_.

Rumplestiltskin checked for signs of magic. Nothing. The place was clean. Too clean, he suspected. Any natural location generated its own tiny patterns of enchantment. This was too smooth. So. Someone or something had brought this boy here and then wiped its own tracks.

"Help!" The boy had finally noticed Rumplestiltskin's presence. The slender branching tips of the fallen limb trembled as the child struggled to free himself, but his effort was futile. "Help! Please, sir, I want to go home."

Rumplestiltskin walked towards the fallen limb — it looked like a third of the tree had sheared off — as close as he could without touching it, then crouched down to peer through the branches at the boy. "Who are you? Where do you live?"

"I'm... I'm called Ah-Ping. I live... live in the Xia-family Village," stammered the boy, staring back at Rumple through tear-filled eyes.

"A long way from here," said Rumple, the names settling into his mind with a glimmering of their attached meaning that he drew from the boy's thoughts.

"Please, sir, please help me," the boy begged. "I can't get out."

Rumplestiltskin considered. An obvious trap, but for whom, and why? For him? Who would know to set a trap for him? The same person who had interfered with his portal? The wisest course would be to walk away now. He straightened, preparing to do just that.

"Please! Don't leave me here!" The boy's cries grew more frantic.

The boy. Ah-Ping. This might be a trap, but the boy was real. Rumplestiltskin stood with his back to the trap, closing his eyes, trying not to think about that. There was no way for the boy to break free before he died. A quick end if a predator found him, a slow one by dehydration if not. If Rumplestiltskin left, it was unlikely that anyone else would chance upon the boy, not when he had been displaced this far into the wilderness. Unlikely, but it wasn't _impossible_ that a hunter might rescue Ah-Ping. That hypothetical hunter might then die when the trap was triggered, but that was nothing to do with Rumplestiltskin. People died all the time, didn't they? He couldn't save them all.

He took a step away, then another.

The boy's desperate voice followed him. Ah-Ping must know, too, that he was doomed.

Rumplestiltskin hesitated. What would Belle say when he told her that he had abandoned a child to die alone? So what if it was a trap? He was certainly more powerful than this Ah-Ping. He had a better chance of surviving, trap or not. The boy was an innocent. Rumplestiltskin could taste it in his name, had seen it in his face. So be it.

Afraid that he might change his mind again, Rumplestiltskin whirled around and strode back to the trapped boy. He reached in through the branches and grasped the single protruding hand. A wish, a thought, and a surge of magic sent Ah-Ping back to the Xia-family Village.

The deal was struck. By the laws of magic, Rumplestiltskin had freely exchanged himself for the boy, and the trap was sprung. The spell that had previously been hidden in a state of quantum uncertainty was now summoned into full existence. Supernatural force exploded all around him, reshaping the fallen branches into the bars of a wooden cage, with him inside it. He charged outward in an attempt to outrace the spell, but in vain. The wood repelled him with fiery heat. His magic slid off it uselessly. Caged! Again. Panic slid up his throat and he bit back a scream. His heart pounded in terror.

No. He forced himself to breathe, deep even breaths. He still had his dagger. The cage meant nothing as long as he controlled his own choices. He had chosen to put his head in the noose. He could get himself out again, or what was all his power for?

He dredged up every spell he could think of, threw every trick he knew at the cage. Its solidity was unassailable, at least from the inside. It held him in, blinding his magical senses to everything outside. After his initial assaults, he sat down to think. There must be a loophole. There was always a loophole. If nothing else, whoever had set the trap would come to collect their prisoner.

He thought despairingly of Belle. If only he had brought her with him. She could have helped him from the outside. But instead she waited for him, not knowing where he had gone. Damn his secrecy. How long before she set off to look for him? How would she even know where to start looking? He wished they still had their smartphones. And that smartphones worked in this realm. Not to mention GPS and Google maps. The Land Without Magic definitely had its good points.

Rumplestiltskin frowned at the bars. He needed to communicate with Belle. If dark magic couldn't get through, perhaps _light_ magic... He sent out a sliver of light energy. It slid right through the barrier.

He had found a loophole! After that triumphant realization, it was only a matter of patiently constructing a message spell and weaving in a guidance cantrip. Luckily, he still had a tenuous link to Belle that hadn't quite faded yet from yesterday's transfer of magical energy. To his relief, the message went through cleanly, and she was even able to send back her reassurance that she was on her way. Rumplestiltskin felt guilty for sending his wife on another long hike when she hadn't even recovered from the first one, and mentally promised to take her somewhere more relaxing at the first opportunity. Hot springs, or a tropical beach, perhaps. Time enough for that later, assuming the owner of this cage didn't show up first and kill him.

Well, there was a cheerful thought. He forced down the clamor of the voices in the darkness and concentrated most of his mind on preparing spells to deal with this unknown enemy. The tiny corner of his mind left free was listening, listening for Belle. It was no more than a ghostly impression of her presence, but it comforted him. Step by step, with agonizing slowness, she was getting closer.

Hours passed.

"Rumple!" Belle's anxious shout startled him out of his trance.

She was here. At last. He scrambled to his feet and moved to meet her, stopping her before she reached the cage. "No, no. Don't touch the bars with your bare hands."

"Then how do we get you out?" Belle tossed a stick at the cage. It disintegrated into a shower of sparks. "Can we break the spell?"

He had already figured that part out. He pulled out his dagger and held it up by the blade, offering the hilt to Belle. "Reach through the bars — carefully! — and take this. Use it to cut through the bars. It should at least weaken them enough for me to break free."

Belle nodded. Biting her lip in concentration, she slipped her hand into the cage and grasped the dagger, then stepped back with exquisite slowness. Then another step, and she held the dagger horizontally in front of her eyes. "Rumplestiltskin—"

And he knew he had made a fatal mistake. He stumbled back in horror, staying upright by force of habit even when his knees felt about to crumble beneath him. "No. No... Belle..."

"Rumplestiltskin, you are my creature now." Her voice full of glee, she no longer sounded anything like the Belle he knew.

Too late, he saw the real Belle sprinting through the trees towards the cage. "Rumple!"

"Belle. Go!" He knew he would be unable to protect her now.

The imposter laughed, sweeping a hand up to send Belle flying back. "Be silent."

No. He wanted to scream but he couldn't. He stared at the dagger in the imposter's hand. As long as she held it, there was nothing he could do.

He was a slave again.

* * *

 **Note:** This Dao-Ji is the version of Ji Gong from "Legend of Crazy Monk" (2010), which is also the version most aware of his status as a character in a story. Imp!Rumple really did remind me of him, but it's hard for me to translate either of them into pure text.


	3. I went for a long walk

"No!" Belle's vision blurred briefly, then cleared again, the imposter's — another one! — sleep spell failing. Because she had once woken from the Sleeping Curse, Belle was now immune to all sleep spells. She scrambled up from the ground where she had been thrown, intending to charge the imposter, to tackle her if nothing else, and attempt to wrest the dagger away by brute force.

Instead, her foot came down in a crevice between two rocks and her momentum carried her forward, causing her ankle to wrench agonizingly. As she struggled to free her foot, she saw the imposter and Rumplestiltskin vanish together in an iridescent flare of light. Where her husband had once been trapped lay an enormous fallen tree branch.

"Rumple!" Belle gasped out the name in despair. "Rumplestiltskin. Rumplestiltskin!"

But it was no use. He was gone, with no power to return to her while someone else held his dagger. Once she had worked herself free, Belle limped over to the fallen branch, hoping to find some clue or some item that Rumple might have left behind. If she had something of his, maybe she could acquire a finding potion or persuade someone to cast the spell.

Ten minutes later, she knew her effort was futile. Her husband was gone without a trace. He was gone, and she was alone in the deep forest, with the sun already beginning to set on the other side of the mountains.

"Oh, Rumple." She sat in the dirt, too tired to move, all her muscles aching and her ankle continuing to throb painfully. She just wanted to lay her head down and cry until this nightmare was over. Except the wind was picking up, chilling her as it dried the sweat off her skin. She had no food, and only a bit of water left in her waterskin. She was grateful now that she had learned the spell for purifying water, although she would have to wait to find more. There was no question of trying to make her way back in the dark; with the guidance cantrip no longer active, she was liable to step off a cliff.

She forced herself to start moving again, gathering leaves and brush to form a makeshift nest. She wished she had the means to start a fire, but she didn't have matches or a lighter. She had been counting on Rumple's magic to provide them with whatever they might need. Well. That had been a foolish assumption, hadn't it? She made a mental note to put more wilderness survival guides on her reading list in the future. If she had a future.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered to herself as she collapsed into her nest. Twigs and sharp bits of leaves prickled her through her clothes, but at least it was warmer and softer than lying on bare ground. She tried to ignore her hunger. She had brought some flat breads and steamed buns from the inn when she had set out, but they were no more than a fading memory now. Of course, she might not be the only hungry creature out here tonight.

Belle shivered, huddling deeper into the pile of leaves, trying not to think of wolves, or bears, or tigers. She truly hoped there were no tigers here. She crawled out of her nest long enough to get herself a heavy length of wood that could serve as a cudgel, then lay back down, listening to the wind and the constant background noise of insects, birds, and small animals. Every time she heard the leaves rustle on the forest floor, she had to tell herself it was probably just some harmless rodent. Eventually, she drifted off into sleep, awakening a few times throughout the night in a panic, but in the end forcing herself back into slumber. She tried not to think about what Rumple's captor might be doing to him or where he was spending the night.

The morning didn't bring much improvement, only enough light to see how thoroughly she was lost.

"No map, no compass." Belle took inventory of her pockets and found the contents sorely lacking. She resolved to carry a knife and a box of matches from now on. _Lacey_ had carried matches. "But on the bright side, I have a stick."

She took a few steps with the help of the stick, finding that her ankle continued to throb with dull pain that turned sharp if she tried to put too much weight on it. It didn't help that her legs were still aching from all the walking she had done the day before. And the day before that, although Rumple must have used magic to heal her, as she had managed the climb back up the mountain to find him without collapsing in exhaustion.

"And if I found my way here, I can find my way back," Belle told herself, ignoring the obvious holes in her logic. By the laws of magic, it was a true statement. She just had to recast the guidance cantrip with the direction reversed. It wasn't as if she had to make up a brand new spell and cast it by herself. Rumple had already done most of the work. She just had to follow his outline, like making a tracing of a drawing.

To her relief, Belle eventually succeeded in re-activating the magic. After that, it was simply a matter of walking back. Simple, one step after another. And on and on. Even when her ankle was screaming for relief, she didn't dare rest for too long. She had to get back. Had to find Rumple. She had no choice but to grit her teeth and force herself to continue.

He's done this before, she thought, remembering Rumple limping away down the road alone, at night, for miles and miles through the Maine countryside. And with no magic at all. If he could do it, she could do it. And if he could find his way back, with no magic, through a magical barrier, then she could find him, in a land _with_ magic. Somehow.

Her resolve took her all the way back to the inn. Thankfully, Rumple had already paid for room and board for three days. She ignored the curious glances from the innkeeper, and shook her head at the offer to fetch the physician, and fell asleep again after eating.

The next morning brought the unpleasant realization that she didn't know anyone here, and had no idea where to start looking for Rumple or the person who had taken him. The innkeeper gave her instructions to the constable's office when Belle asked about law enforcement, but shook her head when the inquiries turned towards magic.

"There was Pao the Three-handed, but he was killed by demons," said the innkeeper. "That's what they say, anyway. He used to brag about playing dice with the foxes. They must have caught him cheating!"

Belle thanked the innkeeper, not sure who the "foxes" were, but too distracted by her own worries to ask for clarification. It took her half an hour to hobble over (with the help of her stick) to the constable's office, then another half hour before they received her inside. She suspected the gatekeeper of angling for a bribe, but as she had no money, she could only plead her case and play the dumb foreigner.

The office was small, with only two men on duty inside. The chief constable heard her story with an air of polite, detached interest. "Missing, eh?"

Belle nodded. She didn't mention the part about coming through a portal, or about her husband being the Dark One, or that he had been kidnapped by some kind of sorcerer or demon, or, in fact, anything at all about magic being involved. They were... herbalists, she claimed, up on the mountain collecting rare plants. Her husband had left their camp and never returned.

"You're lucky," the chief constable said as she finished her explanation.

"Lucky!"

"Well, _you're_ alive, aren't you?" The chief constable glanced at his younger assistant. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"Oh, yes, sir," said the other. "The mountain is infested with demons." He scrunched up his face and made dramatic clawing gestures with his hands. "Hideous creatures that eat humans. I thought even foreigners had better sense than to go up there. Didn't you see the marker?"

Belle shook her head. But then, she had left the trail soon after reaching the forest.

"The mountain gate," said the chief constable. "About a mile into the woods. It marks the boundary of human territory."

"Demon... you think it was a demon that got my husband?" Belle hadn't seen anyone except the imposter who had trapped Rumple, and she suspected her of plans beyond putting the Dark One in a cooking pot, but Belle didn't want to try to explain that one to these strangers.

"Yes. Nothing we can do, it's out of our jurisdiction," said the chief constable. "You're a widow now. Best go back to your family."

Belle shook her head. "I... can't. I don't have any family here."

"Oh, well, that's a shame," said the chief constable, but he didn't look particularly moved. "Maybe your husband's family will take you in."

"No. He doesn't... we're... we were alone here. Traveling."

"Go back home, then." At Belle's hesitation, the chief constable sighed and told her, "Look, if you're thinking to retrieve his corpse for burial, forget it. You'll only get more people killed, and for nothing but a meaningless heap of bones."

Belle stared at him, appalled at his blunt words and telling herself it wasn't, couldn't be true. No. Rumplestiltskin wouldn't die like that. He was alive. He had to be. But until she found him, she would need someplace to stay. "I don't have a home. Do you know anyone who might...?"

"Take you in?" The chief constable looked her up and down. "With your exotic looks, there should be someone..." He glanced over at his assistant. "What do you think?"

"I heard Old Man Lu, the tea merchant, is looking for another concubine," suggested the assistant.

"What? _Concubine?_ No! That's not what I meant."

"You can't think you'll find anyone to take you as a full wife, in your state," said the chief constable.

"No!"

"Good, I didn't think even a foreigner would be that silly." The chief constable smiled at her, as if relieved that they understood one another.

"There's no point in even talking to you, is there?" Belle stormed off as furiously as she could on a bad ankle, thumping her staff hard on the floor with each step.

After that, she found her way to the house of Pao the Three-handed, hoping that perhaps he might have an apprentice or two who could be persuaded to help her. If not that, then potions or spellbooks. To her shock, she found the alleged magician's hut razed to the ground and reduced to ashes. To cleanse the demon aura, she was told when she asked the neighbors.

It seemed a waste, but there was nothing to be done now. Meanwhile, she would need money. Belle decided to ask about jobs rather than magicians. There turned out to be few opportunities for women in the small town. The one place known to be hiring that she was directed to...

...turned out to be the local brothel. Belle gaped at the sign with the big golden letters hanging proudly over the entrance. She was shocked that they were brazen enough to operate in broad daylight. Women with elaborately pinned lengths of hair and colorful clothes accosted passers-by in affected, childish tones that made Belle's skin crawl.

She kept moving, hobbling slowly along the street. She would look elsewhere, that was all. At the end of the day, she returned to the inn, still jobless. Even the people she thought should have had openings refused her. She suspected they were wary of a foreign stranger, unwilling to take a chance on her. She would have to find something tomorrow. Tomorrow she wouldn't even have a roof to sleep under anymore. And she still had no idea where Rumple had been taken, and no money to hire anyone to find him.

When the innkeeper came in, a little later, Belle was crying silently as she stared out the window. At the sound of the door, she hastily wiped away her tears and said as brightly as she could, "Oh, you brought food. Thank you!"

The innkeeper transferred the plates from her tray to the table, then poured a cup of tea for Belle. When she spoke, her tone was unexpectedly sympathetic. "They say you're looking for work."

"I'm looking for my husband." Belle's voice caught and she choked back a betraying sniffle.

"So I've heard."

"The chief constable wouldn't lift a finger to help me. He's scared of demons." The memory still infuriated her. "He says Rumple must be dead."

"I'm so sorry," said the innkeeper. "When we spoke, I could tell your husband cared very much for you."

"The chief constable is wrong! He doesn't know my husband." Belle saw the innkeeper's expression, knew that she must think Belle was in denial. "Rumple is—"

"Is what?"

Belle shook her head. "I believe in him, that's all. Never mind. What are these demons everyone keeps talking about?"

"Animal spirits, mostly," said the innkeeper. "Foxes, rabbits, spiders, snakes, deer... any creature can cultivate magic if they are diligent enough to practice the Way."

"And they become demons?"

"Demons, immortals, whatever you want to call them. After seven times seven — forty-nine — years they achieve human form. After a hundred years they become great beauties. After a thousand years..."

"A thousand years!" Belle knew that even Rumple was less than half that age.

"They become godlike in their powers," explained the innkeeper. "But most do not survive the three ordeals that heaven places in their way. Surely you know this already?" The innkeeper gave her a sidelong look.

"What? Why would I?" Belle returned the look, bewildered.

The innkeeper lowered her voice. "I thought you and your husband must be... you know... with your hair and your eyes... and the way you walked in here with a pocket full of silver but no luggage... People said you came down the mountain."

"You thought we were animal demons?" Belle didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. "No, I'm as human as they come. Just from a different land."

The innkeeper nodded, but didn't look completely convinced.

"I did know, well, I guess she was a wolf, once. She's an innkeeper, just like you. Her granddaughter is a wolf, too, and a good friend of mine," said Belle. "They aren't evil at all. Maybe there are animal spirits in the mountains, but that doesn't mean... doesn't mean they ate my husband!"

"They aren't all evil," agreed the innkeeper, "but some of them are."

"Then why did you let us into your inn, if you thought we were demons?"

"It's bad luck to turn away a customer who's done nothing wrong. Especially if they _do_ happen to be a demon and take offense..." The innkeeper scowled at the window. "If nothing else, it gives me a step up against my competition."

"Ah," said Belle, remembering similar reasoning in the issuing of royal invitations back in the Enchanted Forest. "Actually, it's possible that... that a demon trapped my husband."

"May heaven preserve him! So that's why you were asking about sorcerers? You're looking for a demon hunter?"

"Something like that." Belle sighed and picked at the food. If it was to be her last meal in who knew how long, she didn't want to waste it. It was still too much for one person. She poured two cups of tea and offered one to the innkeeper, pushing out a stool with her foot. "Do you know where I might find one?"

"Most of them are wanderers. They can be... hasty and heavy-handed in their judgements," said the innkeeper cautiously, seating herself and picking up the cup. "Are you sure you're... human?"

"Yes!" But what about Rumple? What if a demon hunter actually did find him, and then attacked him instead of helping to rescue him? Belle remembered Gaston's adamant hostility, the way he called Rumple a "beast". "But maybe you have a point. My husband is... a complicated man."

The innkeeper nodded. Keeping her eyes on the tea cup, she said, "There's a Daoist nun I've heard of. Kongxu the Hermit. She's said to be powerful but kindhearted."

"You think she'll help me?"

"I hope so. There's another thing..." As it turned out, the innkeeper was also looking for someone who had, perhaps, gone missing. Someone who was one of those who "came down the mountain", as she put it. A centipede demon. "Brightmoon stayed at my inn a few times every year, but I didn't realize what she was until one day I happened to see her in half-human form." The demon hadn't killed her, but instead befriended her. "I don't have any family left here, so every friend is more precious than pearls. But most of this town wouldn't see it that way: to them, a demon is a demon. They'd stop coming here if they thought I was harboring 'unclean' creatures."

"How long has she been missing?" asked Belle.

"I last saw her four months ago. She spends most of her time in a hidden cave in the mountains, practicing the Way. I'm not even sure that she is missing, but I can't help but worry." The innkeeper sighed. "So...when you meet the nun, if you could mention my friend, so she'll know to look. Tell her that Brightmoon is a goodhearted demon who has never harmed anyone."

"Of course," Belle said. "Where does this hermit live? Not too far away, I hope."

"Two days of walking should take you there." At Belle's grimace, the innkeeper said, "After you're recovered. You can rest here..."

"I don't have any money," Belle admitted. Even if she had, she would rather have set off immediately, but she had to face reality: she wouldn't get much further until she gave her ankle a chance to heal.

"The kitchen could use another hand," the innkeeper suggested.

Belle readily took her up on the suggestion, and spent the next few days recuperating and chopping vegetables. Each night, she spent an hour practicing the magical exercises Rumple had taught her. Every bit of magic she could muster might make the difference between success and failure. She wished more than ever that she could cast the transport spell. Every moment her husband remained in captivity was another moment of torture for him, simply from the loss of his free will, if nothing else. She remembered what Zelena had done to him, and could only pray that this new enslaver was not so cruel.

The dawn came when Belle set off again, this time with a map and a bag of provisions. The innkeeper also handed her a small wooden box. It contained a segment of ginseng root which she assured Belle would be the appropriate donation for the hermit's services. Kongxu the Hermit lived in an old shrine built in a secluded fold of the hills near the next town to the north. A brick-and-plaster wall enclosed the shrine, its gate unlocked and unguarded, though Belle felt the tingle of some kind of protection spell as she passed through. She was met by the hermit's acolyte in the outer yard. After explaining her mission and presenting the donation of ginseng, Belle was given permission to enter the main building.

"Her holiness will decide whether to receive you," said the acolyte. "Please respect that, and do not speak until spoken to. Do not enter the circle unless invited."

"I understand." Belle left the acolyte standing on the steps leading up to the porch while she pushed open the double doors and stepped inside. It took her a few seconds to adjust to the dim light of the shrine. Oil lamps burned in niches along the walls, illuminating rows of wooden statues of gods and saints unfamiliar to Belle. A larger figure dominated the far wall, while underneath it, an old woman in a faded blue nun's robe sat cross-legged on the floor, her eyes closed and her hands on her knees with the palms up. A white-haired fly-whisk was laid across her lap. A painted circle arced around her, inscribed with the symbols of various elements and the eight trigrams.

The old woman gave no acknowledgement of her visitor. Belle was about to call out, then remembered the acolyte's instructions. She shuffled her feet as noisily as she dared, clearing her throat softly.

No response.

Thinking maybe she hadn't been properly respectful, Belle knelt down, lowering her head, as a supplicant might do in a royal court.

Still nothing.

She continued waiting, and the nun continued sitting, not even blinking. Belle wasn't sure how long she was expected to wait, but this was getting her nowhere. If the woman refused to help, that was one thing, but this was a waste of time all around. Belle stood up at last. Unwilling to leave without at least pleading her case, she called out softly, "Uh, excuse me? Your holiness...?"

When the old woman continued to ignore her, Belle raised her voice a notch. "Look, I'm not trying to be rude here, but please listen to me. People are in danger. We need your help..."

Belle stared into the shadows where the woman sat, trying to discern any reaction at all. She didn't even twitch. Belle was beginning to have a bad feeling about this. What if...no... but... Belle's suspicions took her a step closer. Then another, and she was at the edge of the circle. The hermit maintained her unearthly stillness even now. In fact, she had not moved at all in the whole time Belle had been here.

"Hello? Are you all right?" Deciding that this was no time to wait for an invitation, Belle stepped into the circle and stooped over to examine the old woman more closely. Was she even breathing? Belle reached down for the hermit's left wrist and checked for a pulse.

At that moment, the door opened again. It was the acolyte. "Ma'am? It's time to... Hey! What are you doing?" Her voice rose in shock.

"I...I think she may be..." Belle swallowed, not wanting to say it out loud, but what else could she do? "I can't find a pulse. I think she's dead."


	4. His greatest weakness, remember?

**Author's notes:** A Disadvantage that isn't a Disadvantage isn't worth any points. In other words, Rumplestiltskin, it's your own fault for being a power-gaming charisma-dumping (never mind the actor - in-universe the character obviously has a massive cha penalty) magic-user rules-lawyer. Naturally, everyone hates you, you'll always be overshadowed by the GMPC, the universe shits all over you, and someone else gets your dagger at least once a season.

Writing this to take my mind off 6.04. Did they have to zap Rumple and Belle with the stupidity rays again? Can they stomp on Rumbelle any more? Don't answer that. I wish they really had left Rumple and Belle (and Emma and Hook, too) out of Season 6. Then I might be enjoying the show instead of gaping in horror at the character assassination trainwreck.

* * *

They materialized in a streak of light on a ledge most of the way up a sheer cliff. A few scraggly trees had found a precarious foothold, but otherwise the mountain fell away in bare stone. Rumplestiltskin's captor led him to an opening in the cliff face behind the ledge. "Follow me."

"A hole in the ground. How original," Rumplestiltskin tried to say, but the words never reached his lips.

 _Be silent_. The command lay across his mind, unbreakable, unfading in its power over him. Until the owner of the dagger commanded otherwise, or lost possession of the dagger, Rumplestiltskin was unable to speak.

He followed his captor into a sloping passage that turned into a spiraling staircase chiseled out of rock. As they descended, his captor shook off all remaining traces of "Belle". The imposter was now a handsome youth, taller than Rumplestiltskin, clad in layers of a brilliant white robe with long, wide sleeves. His long black hair was tied back with a bamboo brush stuck through his topknot. His every motion spoke of a refined elegance that had never done a day's manual labor.

Two obvious guards — human in appearance, but their auras betrayed their magical nature — sat at a table in an alcove opening off the staircase. They stood up and bowed their heads as the "youth" approached. "My lord."

Rumple's captor barely acknowledged their greeting. He continued deeper into the caverns, taking them through a large open chamber where two dozen more magical creatures in human form sat cross-legged in meditation. They seemed to take no notice as the two walked past down the center aisle. After another series of dimly-lit passageways, some natural, some not, but all with smooth, dry floors, they went through a doorway into a suite of incongruously luxurious chambers.

The roughly domed ceiling was still in its natural state, with stalactites hanging high over their heads. The floor, however, had been paved over with wood. The walls had been carved into regular angles, covered with wooden panels and hung over with scrolls of painting and calligraphy. Wood and paper screens partitioned the interior space, which was furnished with polished lacquer tables, stools, chairs, and desks. Expensive knickknacks, ornamental rocks, books, and other items typical of a wealthy gentleman's studio filled the place. Magical lights on tall poles provided steady and generous illumination. The air was kept fresh through a subtle circulating current.

As they entered, a man wearing a large, veiled hat stood up from one of the desks and bowed over cupped hands. "My lord. You had no trouble taking him? Not even the Mara is a match for the Calligrapher!"

Rumplestiltskin recognized the dog-faced demonic being who had met him upon his arrival in this realm, the same one who had destroyed the wand and then vanished. Dao-Ji had called him... what was it? Xu Tiande, that was the name. So Rumple's captor was Xu Tiande's master. _The Calligrapher?_

The Calligrapher motioned with the dagger, using it to position him in the center of the room. Those eyes, nothing like Belle's, contemplated him dispassionately. "Stay."

Rumple gritted his teeth, having no option but to obey. Obey, listen, and wait for his chance.

The Calligrapher let the blade fall to his side. He turned and nodded to Xu Tiande. "You were right. This Mara has a soft spot for children. And he trusts a woman with his life. Who would have believed it?"

"It is so written," said Xu Tiande, his voice betraying his eagerness. Rumplestiltskin could feel his _need_ to please his master. "In the book of stories." He touched one of the volumes on his desk, a book just like the ones written by the Author. The damned things get _everywhere_ , thought Rumplestiltskin. One of these days, he would have to find some way to erase himself from them. The thought wasn't enough to cover the _terror_ freezing his heart. _Not again!_ Part of him screamed at him to run, to get away, to do anything to be free again. But he couldn't. Any minute now, the commands would—

"Kneel."

Rumplestiltskin stifled a gasp and dropped to his knees. They always made you kneel. They needed to assure themselves of their dominance. Kneel, kiss my boot, kowtow — knock your forehead into the floor until you bleed. Your face in the dirt gave them the confidence that you were only a tool with no thoughts or feelings that counted in any way that mattered. It was always thus, whispered the voices in the darkness, but he didn't need them to tell him what he had known even as a mortal.

The Calligrapher stared down at him, leaning down to use the point of the dagger to flick the hair away from Rumplestiltskin's face, then tracing a line down to his jaw. "Listen, and listen well. You will not touch this dagger, nor attempt to gain possession of it."

Rumplestiltskin couldn't suppress a slight tremor at the touch. He shoved back a memory of Zelena, in the cage with him, far too close. He hadn't been able to resist her then, and he couldn't resist now, either. Every command issued through the dagger became his absolute reality. His only comfort was that his latest captor could have no _personal_ interest in him.

"You will tell no one about this dagger," continued the Calligrapher. "If asked, deny all knowledge of it."

The important thing was that it could not be forever. Life was change. The dagger only controlled him as long as the Calligrapher maintained possession. Possession was lost if he died, if he voluntarily relinquished it to another, or if someone took it from him. Rumplestiltskin discounted the first two possibilities as unlikely, but as for the third...

The Calligrapher straightened. "You will not attack me or use magic to harm me. You will defend me if I am attacked." He moved behind the large desk at the end of the room and sat down, gracefully moving his oversized sleeves out of the way before resting his hands and the dagger on the surface. "You will tell no one of my plans, actions, or location. You will not leave these caverns unless I command otherwise."

Rumplestiltskin's mind raced, searching for possible loopholes. So he couldn't attack his captor. Someone else could. He would just need to take himself out of the equation, somehow. He couldn't speak of certain things, but he wasn't forbidden from speaking to others. He wasn't forbidden from asking questions. He might be able to manipulate the situation, even while he was being controlled. As long as he was careful, and as long as he was patient.

The Calligrapher aimed the point of the dagger over the desk at Rumplestiltskin. "Do you understand? You may speak."

"Yes. I understand," grated Rumplestiltskin. He ignored the voices shrieking in rage, in fear, and in despair. _You are weak. You lost the dagger. This torment is your own doing. Your own fault,_ accused the darkness. It offered one escape: oblivion. If he let his thoughts sink into that void, nothing would matter anymore. Whatever was commanded of him, it would be only the Dark One obeying, not Rumplestiltskin. It would be easy... No. He needed to stay awake. To watch. To think.

"He doesn't look like much, in this form. He could almost be a peasant," the Calligrapher remarked, glancing at Xu Tiande. "What do you think?"

"As you say, my lord," said Xu Tiande.

"Show me the book. There was a picture, wasn't there?"

Xu Tiande brought his master the book, opened to an illustration of Rumplestiltskin in the dungeon in the last days before the Dark Curse. "In the Enchanted Forest, he wore a different appearance."

"Ah, yes. Much better." The Calligrapher channeled his will through the dark blade. "Resume your Enchanted Forest form. You and the Lifeless Loner will make a fine pair."

The shift was simple enough, but it brought the darkness closer to the surface than Rumplestiltskin preferred. The voices in his head grew louder, more difficult to ignore. He forced them back, thinking of Belle. He had abandoned her in the middle of the wilderness, halfway up a mountain. Where was she now? She was resourceful, he knew, but this was a strange realm. She had neither money nor any magic to rely upon. He hoped she would find her way back to civilization; a lonely death in the forest didn't bear thinking of. Until he found her again, he would never give up, no matter what this Calligrapher demanded of him, no matter what the darkness hissed in his mind.

"So what is it you want?" Rumplestiltskin asked in a low voice, still kneeling on the floor. The leather was tighter than he remembered, almost suffocating in the way it encased him.

"You are my hawks, my hounds," said the Calligrapher. "You will retrieve that which is mine by right." He stood, moved to a table marked with a grid of lines. From a shelf underneath it, he took out two squat pots. He beckoned to Rumplestiltskin.

Rumple stood stiffly and approached, as commanded. One pot was filled three-quarters of the way with flat black stones. Their auras were bright with magical energy. The other pot held only a handful of flat white stones, equally abuzz with magic. The Calligrapher set the pots on the table. He plucked out a black stone and handed it to Rumple.

"The soulstone of...I believe that one is a three hundred year old bat," said the Calligrapher. "Summon him."

Rumplestiltskin's fingers closed over the stone. Concentrating, he sensed the name hidden inside it. The magic was new to him, but it felt similar to the talismans used by the witches of Oz. The soul it was linked to was... locked in a half-world limbo. It wasn't difficult to modify a standard transport spell to fetch the soul, and with it the flesh.

For an instant a tiny brown bat fluttered in the air before him. Then it expanded, morphing into the shape of a wild-haired young man dressed in rags and brandishing a bamboo staff. Before he could attack, Xu Tiande darted forward and stabbed his fingers into the man's torso, here, then there. Some kind of paralysis spell, thought Rumplestiltskin, and indeed, the man-who-had-been-a-bat seemed frozen, only his eyes able to move, following Xu Tiande with an impotent glare.

"Little Storm Cloud," said the Calligrapher. "I hope three months of contemplation have taught you wisdom. Will you accept my offer, now?"

"Three months or three centuries, you can shove your offer up your—"

The words were cut off by a vicious slap across the face. "Insolent rat!"

"Xu Tiande," murmured the Calligrapher, calling off his dog. Then he turned to Rumplestiltskin. "You see what I have to work with? Humans and beasts alike are ensnared by the lowest of realities. Gifted with miracles, they only chain themselves more tightly to the wheel of suffering."

"That's our business," spat the transformed bat. "You have no right to take it from us."

"I have every right! I am the Minister of Magic, duly appointed—"

"Duly exiled! Our petition was granted, our suit heard in the highest court."

"Petty legalities," snarled the Calligrapher. "A mistake. And when my point is proven beyond dispute, you will regret choosing the wrong side." He waved a hand at the transformed bat, returning him to his prison, while the soulstone in Rumplestiltskin's hand vanished, only to drop with a click back into the pot of black stones.

Rumplestiltskin rubbed his palm gingerly. The Calligrapher's power was formiddable. Why go to all this trouble to ensure the Dark One's obedience? "So are you commanding my services as a lawyer? I must warn you, dearie, my lack of familiarity with the laws of this realm may limit my usefulness..."

"Laws of this realm? No, my appeal is to the only court that matters: history," stated the Calligrapher. "Magic, which was meant to liberate the world, was created to be one of the noble arts, just like gaming..." He indicated the gridded table and the stones.

"Music." He moved on to another table, this one holding an antique zither. It had once had five strings, but only one remained.

"Painting." He indicated the scrolls on the walls. Rumple followed his gaze, frowning as some of the paintings seemed to stare back at him. They depicted fierce, inhuman soldiers armed with glowing, flaming weapons. Rumple sensed some enchantment there, but didn't dare to betray too much interest while he was in a position of weakness.

"And calligraphy." He plucked the bamboo brush from his hair and wet the tip in his mouth. "An art with the potential to awaken the soul. But what do they do with magic? Treat it as a mere tool. A machine. A means to _power_."

"Indeed," said Rumplestiltskin, forcing himself to humor his captor. If he could make him forget that Rumple's compliance was compulsory, freedom might eventually come within reach. "And you intend to gather it up, and, what, create... art?" He gestured theatrically, the old mannerisms returning to him, matching the impish appearance.

"Enlightenment!" the Calligrapher declared arrogantly. Then his eyes flashed at Rumplestiltskin. "But such things are beyond your comprehension, Mara."

"Oh?"

"Mired in base passions and the entanglements that come with it, you can only drive the wheel, never transcend it," said the Calligrapher, lifting the dark dagger in his left hand. "But that is why I summoned you. There is no one and nowhere in the world that can completely banish the Mara."

"I have a name, dearie. Can't you read that dagger you keep waving around?"

"You _had_ a name. Now you are my agent." The Calligrapher lifted the brush in his right hand and scribbled words in the air. They blazed with gold light, backwards and illegible to Rumplestiltskin, who could barely read this language at the best of times. Then a gesture sent the words flying straight into Rumple's field of vision, larger and larger until they were gone. He felt the spell mark his soul. "With all the authority of the Minister of Magic."

"And what am I supposed to do with this 'authority'?" Rumplestiltskin probed magically at the spell. It tasted of light magic, constrained by its own rules, mixed with a touch of the divine. Was he dealing with a _god_ again? But the magic was tainted. It was strong, but didn't reach the full force of a true deity. _He is mortal enough to die_ , whispered the voices from the darkness. _Kill him... heaven will not protect him._

"Bring to heel these rebels who dare defy me."

The spell unfolded in Rumple's mind into a list. A list of names and locations, along with an impression of the person behind each name.

"Collect their hearts if they are human, their soulstones if they are not."

There were far more humans on the list than demons. Rumple glanced at the pots of stones again. The white stones must be transformed from human hearts just as the black stones were the vital talismans of the demons.

"Go. Take Xu Tiande with you. Protect him. He will render you such assistance as you may require for now."

Given no choice in the matter, Rumplestiltskin waved a hand and transported both of them to the first name and location on the list. It was in what passed for alphabetical order for the language, meaning the names were sorted by the base elements and stroke number of the written words. "A moth demon called 'A Piece of Snow'. Most people would just say 'Snowflake."

Xu Tiande grunted in reply.

"So why are there so many humans on the list?" Rumple looked around at the desolate scrubland surrounding them, a distant contrast to the lush forests of the mountains where he had arrived in this realm. In the middle of the desolation stood a pillar of rock. Its smooth surface glinted in the light of the setting sun.

"They, like this moth, live in places consecrated by heaven," said Xu Tiande. He scowled at the pillar from under the wide brim of his hat. "My master is unable to set foot inside, ever since the Jade Bastard exiled him. Nor can those demons that serve him."

"And you? Can you?" At Xu Tiande's sullen nod, Rumple pressed harder. "So why haven't you caught this little moth yourself?"

Xu Tiande mumbled, "Not so little..."

"Ah, you can't! That's why you need... me?" Rumple twirled his hands and laughed. "Well, I know why I'm working for the Calligrapher. The question is, why are _you_? You're not even an animal demon, are you? You're human... you _were_ human, once."

"It's none of your business," snapped Xu Tiande. "Cut the bullshit. You have a job to do."

"Yes." He cast his senses into the pillar. It was ancient, unearthly, a remnant of an outpost of heaven, now abandoned to the mortal realm. Words of a divine poem were carved into the stone. In time, the poem would be erased by wind and water, and the holy aura would fade. Meanwhile, it leant its power to those souls born inside, allowing a simple moth to attain immortality.

And there she was. He found her, a speck of white clinging to the side of the pillar. The next instant, he had transported himself there, close enough to reach out magically and seize her. She reacted with a spike of power that nearly stunned him, but Rumplestiltskin had already grounded himself in darkness. She transformed into human form, but was unable to break free. Her energies drained uselessly into the void. Soon she was weak enough for him to draw the soulstone from her body. It flew out from her mouth straight into Rumplestiltskin's fist. The woman swayed and collapsed, turning back into a moth as she fell.

Rumplestiltskin glanced at Xu Tiande, who had only just caught up with him. "It looks like I won't be needing your assistance, after all."

Xu Tiande ignored him, moving forward to catch the moth, now feebly fluttering on the ground. He dropped it into a small bamboo basket, shutting the lid and sealing it with spells written out on strips of yellow paper.

Rumplestiltskin tried to teleport himself away, alone, hoping that completing his task once would satisfy the Calligrapher's command to "take Xu Tiande with you", but the words still held. On the other hand, the Calligrapher had not specified a method or a time frame for his orders to be carried out. He decided to _walk_ to the next target on his list. If nothing else, it would give him time to think. The moth demon had proved too weak and isolated to be any use to him, but the next target was a human priest of some kind, who lived in a temple. If he made enough noise, maybe the humans would organize themselves in opposition to the Calligrapher. Of course, they would only see Rumplestiltskin, but if he left a wide enough trail...

"Hey. What the hell are you playing at? This is no time to admire the sunset." Xu Tiande glared from under his hat at Rumplestiltskin.

"Following my _orders_." Rumple waved a hand. "The next target on the list lives that way."

"Walk, walk, walk. Walk halfway to forever, at this rate. No, take us there faster," demanded Xu Tiande.

"Your master didn't say anything about obeying _your_ orders," Rumple pointed out.

"We can fix that," threatened Xu Tiande. He lifted a hand, but before he could teleport away, Rumple interrupted.

"Wait. That won't be necessary." He didn't want to give the Calligrapher any reason to doubt his compliance. "Let's go."

The human priest proved no more a match for the Dark One than the moth demon. His disciples were even more useless, easily taken out by a sleep spell. Rumplestiltskin pretended to expend a great effort, gasping in a show of exhaustion as he finally extracted his victim's heart.

Xu Tiande slapped one of his spell strips on the man's back. The paper faded from view as the magic took effect.

"What's that for?" asked Rumple. "You're not collecting the body?"

"Of course not. My master wouldn't defile a human being that way."

"But it's all right to do it to an animal spirit?" Rumple transported the two of them back outside to a safe distance, then sat heavily on a rock.

"Don't be fooled by appearances. They're just beasts with ideas above their station." Xu Tiande flipped up his veil and peered more closely at Rumplestiltskin. "You all right? Are you injured?"

"I'm fine, dearie," said Rumple. "I just need to rest before we go after anyone else. So what was the spell you put on him?"

"It keeps him quiet. We can't let some heartless monstrosity wander around unchecked," said Xu Tiande.

"Indeed not." Rumplestiltskin had never had much success arguing morality with anyone, so he didn't try it now. "The Calligrapher is overflowing with benevolence. Anyone can see that."

"Exactly. Once he's cleansed their hearts of magic, he will restore them. It's all for their own benefit."

Rumplestiltskin winced. He remembered what that kind of cleansing felt like. "Well, then. Now that _that's_ clear, go away and leave me in peace."

"But our mission..."

"Yes, yes, I'll whistle for you when I'm ready." He shooed Xu Tiande away. A few hours. Nothing too long that would arouse any suspicions. He took advantage of the time to pore over the list he had been given, making a mental map of the locations. He hadn't been commanded to collect the targets in order, which meant he could make his own order. He could create a pattern. Something obvious. Something near the mountain where he had left Belle.

He put his plan into motion the next morning. He persuaded Xu Tiande that it made sense to space out their attacks, one per day, so as not to wear them out. "A moment of carelessness could ruin everything, and we wouldn't want that, would we?"

Xu Tiande could hardly disagree with that sentiment. One target per day it was.

The fourth and fifth targets put up a respectable amount of resistance, especially as they were able to combine their power to fight the Dark One together, being two monks at the same monastery. Xu Tiande jumped into the fray, swinging the balance back to Rumplestiltskin's favor, and it was over soon after that.

The sixth target had time to call in an ally and set a trap.

 _Finally_ , thought Rumplestiltskin. He triggered the trap — a crude affair with enchanted nets — and leaped clear, shielding himself a split second before a blast of light energy hit him. A familiar configuration. He found the memory an instant before the raggle-taggle monk materialized between him and the Daoist magician-swordsman who was his sixth target. "You!"

"Who else?" Dao-Ji shot a fireball at him, which Rumple deflected and returned with interest. "Running around ripping the hearts out of good people... I had hoped for better from you!"

"Life is full of disappointments."

"Does your wife know what you're doing?"

"I'm not doing this by choice. She knows me better than anyone. She'll understand. And if I'm very lucky, she'll even forgive me." Sensing danger, Rumplestiltskin dodged aside as a sword pierced the space where he had been.

The Daoist magician, who had left Xu Tiande a crumpled, bleeding heap in the corner, drove Rumplestiltskin back with a series of vicious attacks with which he had no desire to engage. "Monster! I strike for justice, in the name of heaven!"

Idiots everywhere, thought Rumplestiltskin, remembering Gaston. Aloud, he said, "You can't kill me, dearie. _You_ don't know how."

Dao-Ji closed in on the other side. "Everyone has weaknesses."

Rumplestiltskin met the monk's eyes. "I'm not about to tell you mine."

He didn't dare say more in front of Xu Tiande, whom he had been ordered to protect. Compulsion tugged at him, forcing him to end this as quickly as he could. Without his dagger, his power was lessened, but he still had enough to knock Dao-Ji tumbling away. In the space of that distraction, Rumplestiltskin slid inside the magician's reach, blocking the sword with his left hand while his right plunged into his chest, shattering a layer of protective magic to yank out the man's heart.

The magician froze, horror overtaking his features as Rumple exerted his will over the heart.

"Stop. Unless you want me to squeeze..." Rumplestiltskin's fingers tightened around the heart, applying enough pressure for the magician to gasp in pain. _Crush it,_ urged the darkness.

"Don't." Dao-Ji watched him warily, but didn't approach.

Rumplestiltskin maneuvered himself around the room to the corner where Xu Tiande lay, breathing raggedly, his eyes closed. A moment later, he had transported both of them outside. He followed up with two more jumps, afraid that they might be pursued. _Protect him._ Rumple didn't know enough of this realm to have much in the way of secret boltholes, but he had found an abandoned cottage in the mountains, one that had belonged to one of the animal demons imprisoned by the Calligrapher. He took Xu Tiande there now and dumped him on the bed.

The wounds were serious, enough to have killed him had he still been mortal. Rumple patched him up magically as best he could.

Xu Tiande groaned and opened his eyes. "What happened?"

"What do you think? Our activities have been noticed. That magician objected to having his heart taken. Rather... violently!"

"But you succeeded?"

"Of course." Rumplestiltskin waved a hand, the heart in question materializing in a puff of smoke, then disappearing again when he reversed the spell. "But we'll need to be more careful from now on."

He convinced Xu Tiande to take a few days to rest before they moved in on their next target. Not Rumple's original seventh target, but one farther down his list: a Daoist nun, a hermit, alone except for a young acolyte. An easy extraction, in and out without a fuss. The acolyte never even saw them.

Dao-Ji hadn't shown up, but Rumple hadn't expected him. With any luck, he would be looking for Belle. He hoped he had not misjudged the monk, that he was _not_ someone like Gaston. That he would not hurt Belle. That she was alive and well. That for once, fate would be kind to them.

* * *

 **Another Note:** Clearly my mind has been wandering, and this has become my write-up of the fantasy RPG campaign I'm NOT playing this year, having switched out RPGs for fanfiction in my "hobbies" field, but sometimes I'm nostalgic.

So here I've split up the party (d'oh! Doubles my workload. But on the bright side I'm down to just two imaginary players) since we've been trying to convince Belle's player that "Bookworm" was meant to be an /NPC/ class, and she's like, no, it's perfectly viable as a player class, and here, I'll prove it: run a solo adventure for me! At least she's accepted that no, you can't use your maxed-out hoard of drama points to force your boyfriend to swap out his Dark One levels for Heroic Royalty levels. Meanwhile, I'm railroading Rumple's plot because I'm lazy and he's bored ("lemme throw some fireballs at someone already!"). Then it turns out I underestimated his mad character optimization skillz, so all my carefully balanced encounters were a cakewalk...


End file.
